This year there was a new addition to his tent's menu- half a lemon with a candy lemon stick in it. The point is to suck the lemon juice through the candy stick like a straw, because what's more refreshing than a tablespoon of sour lemon juice on a hot day?
Matt's only complaint about the carnival this year was that dissatisfied customers who purchased the refreshing lemony treat kept returning to the tent to ask for refunds because they couldn't get their lemon juice to suck through the stick.
And that right there is why I don't volunteer at carnivals.
While Matt was busy volunteering, I went with Michelle to babysit her five month old niece. Things went well for the first hour, and by that I mean we watched her play on her activity mat and blow raspberries while we ate chips and salsa.
And then it was time for the Belmont Stakes, so we stuck the baby in her jumper seat so we could focus on American Pharoah's pursuit of the Triple Crown while discussing whether a good horse or a good jockey is the more important key to success.
This might lead you to believe that we are major horse racing fans but I can assure you that we are not, but you can count on us to jump on a bandwagon.
Excitement grew when Michelle's dad, who was at the race, texted her to report that he was sitting next to American Pharoah's owner. We kept an eagle eye on the owner and his purple tinted glasses every time he was on the screen in hopes of catching a glimpse of Mr. C.
And then after we yelled and cheered and screamed during the race, the camera panned to the white haired man we'd been paying such close attention to, and the caption on the screen said, "Bob Baffert, American Pharoah's trainer."
Well shoot. We were looking at the wrong guy the whole time.
After the race, Michelle said, "Want to take the baby for a walk?"
"Sure," I said, and we plopped her in the stroller and off we went. After about twenty minutes, when the poor thing was squinting because the sun was in her eyes, Michelle said, "Do you think we should have put sunscreen on her?"
"Maybe," I said. "And do you think we should have brought...something?"
Because do you know what we left the house with?
And nothing else.
No blanket or pacifier or burp cloth or rattle because clearly we are two girls who are not accustomed to thinking of the potential needs of a small child.
We strolled back to the house and put the baby in her pajamas, which turned out to be a two man job. She went to sleep without a peep and we came downstairs, turned on My Best Friend's Wedding, and cheersed our wine glasses to a job well done.
Michelle might have even said, "We are like EXPERT parents," and I think I called us baby whisperers.
And then at 10:00 the baby woke up and was NOT HAPPY so we changed her and fed her and explained to her that sleep was really the best thing for her. When that didn't work we laid her down on the activity mat to try to tire her out. Unfortunately that made her more active, so we quickly nixed that plan and instead brought the stroller inside, pulled up all the hoods so she couldn't see anything, and pushed her round the living room.
SHE DID NOT FALL FOR THAT TRICK EITHER.
We'd been beaten by a five month old.
Eventually she did drift back to sleep, and we determined that she must have woken up earlier because she'd had a bad dream. She was in a clean outfit, had just eaten, and was snuggled up in her crib with the fan blowing lightly in her direction and the sound machine turned on.
I could sleep for a solid twelve, thirteen hours under those conditions.
So, naturally, a bad dream was the only thing that could've caused the disruption. I bet she was dreaming about being taken out into the world by two inexperienced caregivers who didn't even give a second thought to bringing any sort of baby supply.
Or, she could've been dreaming about carnivals.